Convivial Unpleasantness
by Caepio
Summary: How opinions of character are formed. Slight Brutus/Antony.


"Who is he?" Brutus asked Atticus quietly, his gaze focused on a man standing on the opposite side of the room from him. Uncomfortable in civilian's clothing, he stood out obviously as not a politician, or even necessarily of the noble class, as Brutus was used to seeing it. Atticus followed his friend's gaze, frowning slightly when he caught sight of the other man.

"I believe," he said quietly, taking a slow sip from his glass of wine, "That that is Mark Antony. Tribune, Mark Antony. I had heard that Caesar was sending him here to oversee his side of the debates on the coming election."

Brutus raised an eyebrow, his gaze flicking over the blond haired soldier before turning his attention away, glancing across the room to where his mother stood talking with the hostess. He was bored. Disinterested with the proceedings. He wasn't even particularly interested in the soldier from Gaul, beyond the political implications of his presence, why should he care? It was unlikely that Caesar would get what he wanted.

Atticus left Brutus to go speak with Cicero, wending his way through the crowd and leaving Brutus alone at the edge of the room. He leant back against the arm of the couch, looking around the room, nothing holding his interest for long - he idly wondered if he could perhaps simply make his excuses and leave, but then, he thought, his mother would not be pleased. Besides, this was another part of being in politics. The social events that were occasionally more important than the senate meetings themselves. His gaze fell on Mark Antony again, watching the man for a moment as he spoke with the daughter of one of the men present. Antonia Hybrida, he thought her name was. Antony smiled, laughing at something she had said. The sound was infectious, Brutus thought idly, barely noticing that he _was_ noticing. He'd been looking for longer than was polite, a slight frown crossed Antony's face and Brutus hurriedly looked away towards another part of the room as Antony looked around, feeling Brutus' gaze on him. He wasn't fast enough however, and their eyes met for the briefest moment before Brutus broke the contact. He felt himself flushing slightly, and he hurriedly stood up, putting the crowd between him and Antony. Even that response was, he knew irrational. He hadn't done anything out of line, he told himself. He was tired, and he was bored, and Antony happened to be... novel. There wasn't anything more to it than that. He knew nothing about the man, he reminded himself. It was natural to be curious. _So for god's sake, why are you flushing?_

He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around a sharply to see Cicero standing a step behind him, smiling with his usual warm congeniality. Brutus forced a slight smile, shoving the recent incident purposefully from his mind.

"Brutus, it's so good to see you here." Cicero began, "You must come see me soon! It's been far too long since you've paid me the honor of a visit." He spread his hands in a welcoming gesture, "And of course, there is so much I have been desperate to discuss with you. We all have such high hopes for you."

"Thank you." Brutus said quietly, "Forgive me for having been so remiss in my correspondence of late-"

Cicero waved his apology away airily, "Of course. Of course! It is only to be expected." He put his hand on Brutus shoulder, firmly guiding him across the room, not ceasing his conversation all the time, "But it more than just a social visit that I want from you. It is to discuss the new book that I am writing on rhetoric... A Platonic dialogue if you will." He glanced up at him, "You're opinion, would of course be most valued. You have such talent as a speaker-" he smiled slightly at him, "If, you will forgive me, the Laconic style is not one that I usually admire, but you use it to great effect Brutus. You must come and converse with me on the subject some time..."

Brutus responded easily, but his attention wasn't focused on the conversation anymore, he'd realized that Cicero had been pulling him across the room to where Mark Antony was, and he looked sharply at Cicero as he heard the man's name on Cicero's lips.

"Yes, Mark Antony." He was saying, "Atticus said you had been curious to meet him-"

"I wouldn't say curious-" Brutus tried to say, but Cicero merely continued.

"I was surprised you had not yet met, I had assumed you would have seen him in Athens when you were studying rhetoric - but then... He was only there for a very short time." He lowered his voice slightly, glancing at Brutus in what he surely thought was a discreet manner, "Of course... The two of you do travel in such different social circles, it's unsurprising you wouldn't remember him. Still! It doesn't do to ignore a chance at an introduction when one presents itself." He pulled Brutus forward slightly, calling Antony's attention, and introducing them properly, with the air of someone who finds himself more important simply by association with the bringing about of A Happening, which he obviously thought the occasion of their introduction to be. And clearly, since he thought it to be so, it must be.

Brutus met Antony's gaze evenly, as if he hadn't recently been caught staring at him from half way across the room, as polite and cool as he could be. It was more than clear from Antony's response that he thought the whole form of social niceties to be somewhat ridiculous, and Brutus' cool manner to be unnecessary and even arrogant. The slight hint of amusement in his eyes stating very clearly that he _knew _Brutus had been looking, and self-satisfaction abounded. Brutus, pointedly ignored it.

"Cicero mentioned that you had been at school in Athens, studying rhetoric." Brutus said politely, for lack of anything better to say.

Antony shrugged, "Yes. But only for a year-" He glanced swiftly back over his shoulder at the young woman who he'd been talking to. She didn't notice. Laughing at something a friend of his was saying. He frowned slightly, returning his attention to the conversation, clearly bored, "I did not find it to be interesting enough to hold me longer."

Brutus raised an eyebrow slightly, "I, on the other hand, make it my constant study."

"Oh I know." Antony said with a slight, sardonic smile, "It's just about written all over you. Politician. Rhetorician. Noble." _You just hate that I caught you looking, don't you?_

Brutus expression became even more mask like and polite if that were possible. "I fail to see how you could assume to state my character so succinctly after such a short acquaintance..."

"We met," Antony said, copying Brutus' cool tone, "once before. When I was in Athens." Seeing Brutus' confusion he continued, "At the house of a friend of yours I believe. We argued till 3 am about the purposes of rhetoric." He shrugged, "I'm so sorry to say that I don't remember much of it. I wasn't as sober as you were at the time. Probably why I found it bearable." That was what amused the other man, of course. He had been interested in Brutus. For all of 5 seconds. Before the man had started talking and he'd felt the strong urge to knock him out if it would only shut him up.

Brutus frowned slightly, his gaze flicking across Antony, recollection falling into place, along with the realization that when they had met that first time, and much more surreptitiously, Antony had been the one looking. "Oh." Was all he said though, "I had forgotten."

Antony grinned, "Stuck in your memory that strongly, huh?"

Brutus raised an eyebrow, "It was certainly not the most memorable of conversations during my residence there." _The conversation was pointless, _his eyes said. The fact that he still wanted to win the argument, was what he had to hide.

Antony seemed unperturbed, "Well, that's too bad."

Brutus considered the other man for a moment, a remembered annoyance and sense of off balance when faced with the other man returning, "You said 'noble', a moment ago, as if that were a bad thing." He raised an eyebrow, "Yet you are one yourself. And I believe you were just appointed Tribune of the Plebs. On two accounts that you seem to hold against me then, you are, to continue the image, guilty."

Antony shrugged, "Who, me? I'm just a soldier. I'm here because Caesar sent me. I'm just obeying orders. Trust me, I wouldn't choose this as a life."

"Funny how fate works, then." Brutus said cooly, "I hope your year in Athens wasn't entirely useless. You might find rhetoric to be useful here." He frowned slightly, considering Antony, the words slipping from him without consideration, barely caring to mask his tone, "I'm surprised, that Caesar sent you. From the little I recall of our conversation - you were not _suited_ to reasoned discussion of that sort."

Antony raised an eyebrow, "Obviously Caesar disagrees. Do you not trust that he knows what's in his best interests?"

"Considering his wishes regarding the election, obviously not."

Antony laughed, "Oh, I see. You're one of the Optimate types. You dislike him so you won't even give me a chance." _Why not try though? If you'd just shut up for a few minutes you might enjoy it._

Brutus raised an eyebrow, "I thought we had already ascertained that this was a second chance, in a sense."

Cicero quietly cleared his throat and they both looked at him sharply, surprised for a moment to see him there. They'd forgotten the other man's presence. He was watching them both a touch apprehensively, surprised to see his friend responding as he was, his mind filled with speculation as to the cause. Brutus flushed very slightly, not looking back at Antony, hating himself for getting pulled into a conversation like that and entirely losing track of the importance of not showing anything except a mask. Antony just watched him. Smirking at the other man's discomfort - liking that he was the cause of the slight flush, and not caring if the other man noticed. He wouldn't think of trying to bed him - politicians were too much trouble. The man would never agree anyway. But Antony could think it none the less. If Brutus noticed? So much the better. He looked good flushed and annoyed.

"Antony _do_ stop talking with the politicians! You must come hear this marvelous story of Cornelius'." Antonia Hybrida had stepped into the circle of their conversation, her hand on her cousin's shoulder, smiling at him expectantly.

Antony gave a slight, mocking bow in Brutus' direction, "Please forgive me- but there are so many important things I could be doing right now."

Brutus raised an eyebrow slightly, the cool mask like feel returning to his appearance, "I'm sure."

Antony wasn't sure how he did it, but those two words managed to radiate absolute contempt, censure, and an icy kind of promise that Brutus had no intentions of every showing anything less to him, but by all means, do try again. Maybe this time the argument will have a winner. Antony held his gaze for a moment, an unspoken acceptance and near amusement in his eyes, almost laughing at him, before his cousin pulled him away, pouting prettily at his lack of focus on her.

Brutus glanced at Cicero, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, as if half that conversation hadn't been purely implications that only he and Antony could read, "And that, is the man Caesar sends to save his consulship."


End file.
